HyperACTiVE iDENTiTiES
by xxstumblingdown
Summary: Four shall discover the truths they long for, three will discover meanings of their lives. And one shall quest of their real destiny, their real future in coming.
1. Morgan

I haven't written anything in a hella long time. Please don't blame me if this sucks. And I promise, I _will update this.  
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><p><strong>мσяgαη<strong>

_Morgan held the silver glowing ring in amazement. It had a musical ring when it glowed, but she couldn't define what. She knew the tune was familiar . . ._

_All she was concentrating on, right now, though, was how she had even gotten the ring in the first place, or how she even heard the ring even though it was only glowing. That's all. It was only glowing._

_She observed it closely. Eight symbols imprinted on the side of the ring. Then suddenly, a quick flash caught Morgan's attention, and she noticed tiny writing etched in the inside of the ring. She read it out loud:_

_"Four shall know the truth of their hearts, and three will find the meaning of their lives. But one shall quest of their real destiny, their real future in coming."_

_The words were ominous, echoing mysteriously in her head._

_"Four . . . truth of their hearts . . . three . . . meaning of their lives . . . one . . . real destiny…" She murmured as she turned the ring around and around, searching for another clue of what it was. But there were no more._

_Shrugging, she placed it in her desk drawer carefully and headed for school. As she stepped through the door, she looked back at her room curiously, and-_

Sweating furiously, Morgan woke up with a gasp, breathing hard. She felt something in her palm, something she involuntary grasped so ever tightly in her hand. Prying her fingers off of the object, she widened her eyes in disbelief. It was the ring!

"No…" She threw the ring onto the ground, horrified. How had she gotten it, especially if she was asleep? Morgan never sleepwalked.

And why had she gotten it? If somebody had put it in her hand while she was sleeping, why had they even given it to her at all? It was no use to her; she never really liked jewelry either.

Morgan glared at the ring, as if it was a person, blaming it for making her head hurt so much. Carefully stepping over it as if it were cursed, she slipped into her everyday clothes and stole a look at the ring before making her way out of her bedroom.

"Morgan Mikaela Yarika. Get over here now." The tall woman, with large, black rimmed glasses, and a long, crooked nose, glared down at Morgan. Such rage and anger, Morgan noticed, had caused this teacher to shake with a laughable exaggeration. She stared at the whiteboard marker that was clutched in the woman's hand, and was suddenly brought back to thinking about the ring. Morgan frowned, and pushed the thought back to her head. When the teacher had given up on persuasion and was beginning to walk over to Morgan's desk with a dark thought in her mind, Morgan stood up, already knowing the consequences. Though her chair fell backwards and toppled over, she didn't turn back to set it back upright again, and only left her classmates to stare amusingly at her.

The teacher, however was not pleased at all.

An eyebrow was raised, and a continuous, annoying tapping of her high-heeled foot disturbed Morgan. Morgan gave another small frown.  
>"You do not sleep in Mrs Peterson's class. You do not slack off Mrs Peterson's class. You do not make mistakes Mrs Peterson's class." Suddenly the woman looked up from her unwavering stare at Morgan, and shot her sharp-as-daggars glare at everyone in the room. "Do you understand? Now, I repeat, I am Mrs Roberta-" Her eyes flickered over to a sniggering boy. Morgan tilted her head just slightly, a movement barely noticable for the rest of the people around her. He was.. Jared, wasn't it? Yes, yes, Jared was his name.<p>

"Do you find it funny, boy?" Mrs Peterson snapped, her voice high and shrill as made her way over to his desk, her high heels making a tremendous noise.

"N-no, M-mrs P-peters-son.." Jared sputtered, eyes wide and looking very scared. Morgan suddenly imagined Jared as a cowering chicken, and had to resist herself from laughing as well.

"Good." Morgan noticed, that Jasmin, who was sitting at the far corner of the room, had a very twitchy mouth. She wondered if it was because the girl was trying not to laugh, yet she was forced to push another tempting thought away as Mrs Peterson turned on her heel to return, with a strict and hard face, to the front of the room.

Mrs Peterson's neck snapped over to Morgan's still figure, and kept staring at her without saying anything until a few minutes later. "Sit down, Miss Yarika. I will deal with you later." Morgan noticed Oliver's shudder and realized that when Mrs Peterson had said 'later', there was a hiss in her voice, a menacing, malicious, bloodthirsty rasp that was promising... of something bad.

What a new teacher, Morgan thought [she was very often interested by strange things, people and happenings], feeling a little amused by the events that had occured. Though she'd barely escaped from her embarrassment [whatever her punishment would be], Morgan was not at all shocked. She was good at getting away with things, and getting in trouble was the second in line of her talents.

"I thought she was going to be nice! Mr. Golith said she was going to be nice! I can't believe she's not nice!" Leliah, who had quickly appeared at Morgan's side, was already talking nonstop about Mrs Peterson. Leliah, unlike Morgan who had long and silky hazel brown hair to match up with pretty pale blue eyes, had messy, shoulder-length strawberry blond hair that never seemed to be combed. But Morgan had to admit, there was some attractiveness in that messy mop of hair, and Leliah's jade green eyes had made sure of that.

"Oh, be quiet, Leli," Morgan sighed hopelessly. She'd always been a quiet bookworm with wondrous thoughts. Meaning- not talkative. She'd say this and that, but they wouldn't always be full sentences.

"Be quiet? Be quiet? Morgie, I thought you knew me best!" Leliah shrieked, but Morgan couldn't hold in that girlish giggle of which had been dying to escape. Leliah, in turn, laughed too, and her laugh was much lower, much louder, much more different than Morgan's.

"I do." Morgan giggled again, and suddenly, without knowing why, the two friends burst into a fit of laughter that never seemed to end.

Now, at that moment, Morgan felt happy that she had chosen to be friends with Leliah. For the start of their friendship was not so expected at all.

"Hey, you! Yeah, you, new kid! I'm talking to you!"  
>Eight-year-old Morgan Mikaela Yarika turned around, her eyes watery and red after being pushed around by a bunch of fifth graders.<br>"W-what do you want?" Morgan trembled, staring up at the tall, pretty girl. She recognized her. She was one of the clique girls, one of those who thought they were the Goddess of the world and that everyone should respect them. That everyone should love them. And that everyone should think that they were beautiful. The thought of them made Morgan curl her lip in disgust, but now there was one standing right in front of her- and she wasn't sure whether she had enough guts to do so.  
>The girl shrugged, as if she'd only called on Morgan to have a small conversation.<p>

"Oh, nothing. It's just that I've been kicked out of my so-called circle of friends and I need someone to be with. You don't mind, do you?" Though sarcasm dripped from this girl's mouth, Morgan somehow felt… pity? Sympathy? She didn't know.

Without even waiting for Morgan's answer, the girl burst into a grin and skipped over to Morgan's side, immediately linking arms with her. "I'm Leliah. And you're… Amelia?"  
>Morgan shook her head, giving a small sigh. "No, Morgan. But I guess you can call me…" She thought painfully of a good nickname. She wanted to impress this girl, and not to make a fool of herself. After all, Leliah did seem nice, not at all like the others that she'd been observing.<br>"…Morgie?'' Leliah grinned brightly. "Yeah, yeah, I'll call you Morgie! What about you, what will you call me?"  
>Morgan widened her eyes, immediately taking a liking to her new nickname. "Uhm… since you're calling me Morgie, I'll call you… Leli!"<br>Leliah shrieked with delight. "Awesome! Awesome, awesome, awesome!"  
>Morgan wondered if Leliah was always this hyper. But she didn't mind. Now she had a friend, someone to play with, someone to eat with, and someone to read with! Most importantly, someone who…<p>

"…will listen to me." Morgan smiled feebly, recalling that memory that happened so many years ago. What was it, four years? They were twelve now, in sixth grade, and now they've been best friends for four years. It was hard to believe- time flew by fast for them, for they always had fun together.

"What?" Leliah stopped laughing, and frowned slightly at Morgan, like Morgan would always do.

Morgan grinned. "Nothing." She threw her arm around Leliah. "I'm starving."

"Great!" Leliah burst into a grin, just as wide and bright as she did so four years ago. "Last one to the table's a rotten egg!" Leliah immediately took off.

Morgan laughed, and dashed after her.


	2. Jolie

נ**σℓιє**

The sun beat down hard on Jolie as she walked slowly home, hands grasped on her backpack straps tightly. Her eyes were pale and gloomy, her lips pursed as if deep in thought.  
>She'd had enough with bullies.<p>

Tomorrow... tomorrow, she was going to show them.  
>Yeah.<br>Tomorrow.  
>Jolie sighed and squinted into the distance. She was almost there. She could see the roof already, all vibrant blue and purple. It was the brightest roof in the neighborhood, and sometimes it made her proud to be one of the owners of it. She smiled, suddenly remember the compliments she had gotten when she first moved in.<br>She was in second grade back then.  
>She was cool back then.<br>Now...  
>Jolie pulled out her mirror of which she had accidentally detached from her mom's compact when she was small. A sigh immediately escaped her as she gazed back at herself. Her dark brown fringe covering her eyes, she brushed it away, along with stray strands of hair from her ponytail.<p>

I'm pretty. Jolie thought. But I want to be popular. Cool. Fashionable...

"Not like a nerd. Not just a pretty nerd."

She squeezed her eyes shut as she reached her doorstep.  
>Jolie stood there for a while, thinking and visioning what her life would be like if she was truly what she wanted to be.<br>"It would be my dream come true." She whispered longingly, and then pushed open her door.

"Jolie! My dear!" Polina rushed to the door, sweeping Jolie up into her arms. Jolie squirmed uncomfortably until Polina let go of her with a weak smile. "Now, go and make yourself a snack. Father and I are going out later."

Jolie grumbled something barely audible as she slipped down the hallway.

Polina sighed. Kids these days.

"Oi, Pol, you gonna tell me where you guys are going?" Jolie mumbled, chewing on her bite of cheese and ham sandwich.

"Oh, Jolie, we're going to . . . to meet . . ." Polina blushed. "Er, let your father tell you!" She grabbed him as he came into the living room.

Malcolm looked as embarrassed as Polina. "Oh, my darling . . ." He reached for Jolie, who drew away grumpily.

"Tell me."

"Er.." Malcolm cast an unsure glance at Polina. "We're going to meet an agent."

"What kind of agent?"

"An est- Oh, look at the time!" Malcolm yelped quickly. "I must get prepared!" He disappeared up to his bedroom.

Jolie looked to her mom expectantly, eyes flashing with a sense of menace. "Mom." There was a demanding tone as she addressed Polina.

"Oh...we're going to meet an estate agent, my dear." Polina smiled, looking the very least hopeful. "I was hoping we'd . . . sort of, er, surprise you."

"Estate agent? For what?" Jolie snapped. But she'd already guessed. Polina and Malcolm were going to sell this house, and perhaps they were going to move. Perhaps she was going to leave this place forever. Perhaps she could escape her nightmares forever. Jolie sat there, thinking, as Polina searched for an answer.

No. She didn't like the idea. Though she hated this place, it was her home. It was where she grew up in, and where she'd met so many people. Plus, how could she leave her grandmother? Her eyes drifted over to the old lady who sat at the entrance of the dry kitchen, rocking on her chair distantly.

"Jolie . . ." Jolie's eyes flickered back to Polina. ". . . we're going to move."

Ahah. Suspicion confirmed.

"Well, I'm not going to."

"What?" Polina looked shocked.

"Are you going deaf now? I said, I'm not going to move." Jolie smirked.

"Young lady, you cannot-"

"I'm not a young lady. I'm a teenager." Jolie growled. "And you can't boss me around! I'm going to take care of grandma, because you guys can't!" She yelled accusingly.

"Don't raise your voice at me-"

"WHATEVER! I DON'T CARE ANYMORE!" Jolie screamed. "YOU'VE NEVER LISTENED TO ME, NEVER, EVER, EVER! LISTEN TO ME, JUST FOR ONCE, JUST THIS TIME!"

Silence fell like a thin blanket over mother and daughter as they glared intently at each other. Grandmother was still rocking, now humming a little song that had suddenly popped into her head.

"Fine. Talk." Polina said dryly, as if forcing the words reluctantly out of her mouth.

Jolie narrowed her eyes. "This place is my hometown. I grew up here. You brought me here after first grade and I didn't forgive you for doing that. But now my head if full of dreams, full of things I'm going to do in this place. I will change this damned place soon enough, you just wait! I just need time. And you're not helping, by acting like you're some person who can just say a few words and change the course of my life. I'm not going to let you do that, you bi-"

"Excuse me?" Malcolm stepped back into the room, eyes scorching the two females.

"I wasn't going to say anything." Jolie mumbled, dropping her gaze.

"Good." Malcolm looked at Polina. "Now come on, my love. We'll talk about this when we get back later." He glanced at Grandmother- then briskly sauntered out of the house.

Polina glared at Jolie. "I'll deal with you later." She seethed, before following Malcolm out.

Jolie growled. Polina wasn't her real mom. She didn't have any rights over her life.  
>Suddenly, Jolie was overwhelmed, crashed over with a wave of sadness. Even though she'd never known her biological mom, she'd always felt a bond with her. Malcolm never talked about her, either.<br>Guess it hurts too much, She thought. Or he's just completely forgotten about her, because he has that Polina sucker now. Jolie sneered.

"Imogen, is that you?" Grandmother croaked, and Jolie's head swiveled over. Eyes clouded, she sighed and got up to sit closer to the old woman.

"Yes, mother, it's Imogen . . ."

"Oh, good, I wanted to tell you something!" Grandmother laughed, coughing in between.

"Yes . . . ?" Jolie pressed curiously. Sometimes, when Grandmother imagined Jolie's mother nearby, Jolie would play the role of her mother. It was fun, sometimes, hearing the old stories that Grandmother suddenly recalled. Or perhaps she just weaved it up with those distorted memories, still jarred up in Grandmother's head. Jolie wasn't sure. But it was always nice to hear them.

"This ring . . ." Grandmother grasped Jolie's hands tightly. Her own hands were shaking terribly. "I wasn't to give it to you, long ago. But I never seemed to remember to do so." Grandmother laughed, and sure enough, a ring rolled into Jolie's palms.

"It's certainly pretty, mother." Jolie barely resisted a gasp. It was beautiful. The way it caught the light astonished Jolie- she'd never seen anything like it!

"Yes . . . powerful, too. Use it well, dear." Grandmother smiled weakly. Just before she looked like she was going to say something else, the fragile lady coughed. "Oh, I'm feeling quite tired now . . . let me sleep, my sweet, and perhaps-" Her eyelids closed.

"Grandmother?" Jolie shook her urgently, eyes wide. At this point, playing Imogen's role wasn't important anymore. Grandmother was old, and Malcolm had said before that she was due to die anytime. "Grandmother!" Realizing the horrible truth, Jolie buried her face in Grandmother's body, the warmth rapidly escaping, slowly being replaced by the cold fingers of Death.


End file.
